


Walking Free

by ThereWillBeCubes



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Makoto/Haru, Nagisa/Rei - Freeform, free!au, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereWillBeCubes/pseuds/ThereWillBeCubes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, this a goddamn Free!/zombie apocalypse fic and I already have so much of it planned out and several chapters done and I want to write this so bad.</p><p>This is a short prologue of sorts, and I will have the next chapter up when I get back from work.</p><p>I will add warnings and character/relationship tags as I go.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this a goddamn Free!/zombie apocalypse fic and I already have so much of it planned out and several chapters done and I want to write this so bad.
> 
> This is a short prologue of sorts, and I will have the next chapter up when I get back from work.
> 
> I will add warnings and character/relationship tags as I go.

 

I am unhappy with the morning noise of Tokyo.

Even below the water, I can hear faint sirens and the honking of horns. While most were still asleep or trying to have an early-morning soak, some just had to go and be incredibly irritating.

I winced at another siren wail, nearby, submerging myself in the relative peace.

There’s a faint rattle, and I hear my front door open.

_So early-_

“Haru! Thank God!”

I glance up from the depths of my tub. Makoto’s familiar face wavered over the edge, hand already outstretched.

“Makoto, what is it?” I ask irritably, sliding my hand into Makoto’s. My following sentence died on my lips. Wide-eyed and trembling violently, I could see Makoto was swathed in clothes despite the impending summer day, wearing his sturdiest shoes, his phone shoved in his front pocket. His eyes kept darting from my face to the window, and a little gasp escaped him as a siren cut through the air outside.

“We have to go, now, to the station,” he said, pulling me out with unnecessary force, “they’re evacuating.”

I was shaking out his hair, but paused at those words.

“Evacuating what?” I asked, and Makoto’s hand gripped my arm harder than it ever had. His phone had began to buzz against his chest. He swallowed thickly, and for the first time, I felt a surge of fear.

“Tokyo.”

 -

I didn't understand.

Makoto was pulling me along by the hand, every few seconds tapping replies to people on his phone. Mine was flat. 

My backpack was unpleasantly heavy, and it was hot, very hot, on the streets, in the stations, where the tide of people rolled and boiled in the summer sun and their panic. I realised Makoto's palm was sweaty, and I instinctively tightened my grip.

“Don't let go, Haru,” he had told me as I locked the door, and the moment we stepped out onto the busy street he had taken my hand.

He looked at me briefly, giving me a pained smile, before turning back to his phone.

The large electronic billboards were showing instructions instead of advertisements, and people in uniform directed the tide of people. It was rough going.

But there was nothing explaining why.

Finally, we were able to stop walking, jostling in front of a temporary military blockade, and I sucked in a breath at the press around us. Makoto pulled me next to him, towering over most, his face worried.

I really, _really_ didn't like all the people, shouting and crying and just making unbearable noise. My anxiety must have reflected in my face, because Makoto suddenly put an arm around me, blocking out the worst of it.

“It'll be alright, Haru-chan.”

He was about to say something else, mouth opening, leaning in a little, before terrified screams rent the air.

 

From then, it was a mad press to pass the blockade, to get away, and I could only focus on one thing as my mind tried to escape;

 

Don't let go.

 

 


	2. Tomorrow Will Be Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru is unsure of how much time has passed he and Makoto by, but he is sure of one thing.  
> Each morning is worse.

The heat of the day was merciless. Even through the dappled shade, I could feel every beam of sunlight on my bare skin, heat like tiny blades. The morning had not even passed and it was already like this, I groused to myself, the afternoon would be twice as hot, and I would be twice as tired.

All I wanted at that moment was water. To dive into it, slide through it, feel it’s cool, welcoming embrace around me.

But all the water we had was in 4 dusty bottles, two in Makoto’s backpack, and two in mine. I’d already quenched my parched throat that morning, wishing desperately I could splash it over my face, but Makoto had eagle eyes and improved reflexes, and I did not want my bigger friend giving up water because I could not control myself.

My hatchet bounced irritatingly against my thigh as we walked, but Makoto always held his weapon out, the handle probably grooved to fit his hands. The path was unpleasantly dusty, and I could see Makoto’s shoes and pants were already covered in a layer of dirt. How he could wear long pants on a day like this, I didn’t know.

We walked in mostly silence, words were water, really, but for this I was glad. I was never much of a talker to begin with, and besides, it reminded me of walks to school along the beach, where Makoto and I didn’t have to say anything to enjoy the other’s company. 

I missed the ocean so much.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice Makoto had stopped until I almost bumped into him. Makoto had a hand up, and his eyes were narrowed, darting from side to side, his breath coming in deliberate bursts.

I followed his eyes forward, and along the path, I could see a small cluster of vehicles ahead, abandoned on this side road.

Seemingly abandoned, I knew Makoto would say, if I voiced those thoughts out loud.

We stayed there silently, before Makoto moved into the trees, pulling my hand along. We moved like this alongside the path, before stopping. In front of us was a small intersection, with three cars all crumpled against one another. The gravel road we were on kept going into the trees, but it was cut with another track  heading off to who know’s where. Makoto reached into his pocket, flipping open a small compass with a single long cut on the casing. His lips pursed, eyes flicking between it and the wreckage.

“I don’t see any bodies,” I murmur, and Makoto frowns.

“We’ll check the cars, but watch out, okay?” was all he replied, before gripping his machete a little harder and cautiously approaching the vehicles. 

As we got closer, I could see forms slumped in the front seats of the closest car, and the one that had slammed into it had a torso halfway through the windscreen. Makoto gingerly rapped the corpse with his blade, but it didn't move. The face might've been in a grimace, but I couldn't tell, it was too ruined by the heat and sunlight, bloating and sagging flesh everywhere. Nausea welled in my stomach as Makoto began searching around it, and I looked away.

He continued to rifle through the cars, but I could barely look at the bodies, let alone move them, so I simply kept an eye on the roads.

We had not come across anyone or anything moving for a few days, but I knew Makoto would not be happy if I let my guard down.

Makoto quietly closed the last door, holding a few things in his hands. I move over to have a look. 

“I’ll take these,” he says shortly, crouching to zip open his backpack. He puts a few more bits and pieces into our first aid kit, and slides what looks like a car map into one of the pockets, “but you should take this.”

He holds out a tube of sunscreen, and I take it silently, giving it a shake. It’s pretty full, and I’ll probably need this soon.

“Also, I found this,” Makoto continues, holding out a long screwdriver. I look at it, before pressing my lips together.

“Neither of us are good at repairs,” I say, even though I know full well why Makoto is offering it to me. The green eyes narrow a little  before he puts the screwdriver in his own pocket.

“You need something that doesn’t stick as much, Haru,” he admonishes, “you need to learn someday.”

I don’t want to learn, someday. I didn't like the hatchet either, but at least with it one could swing in a general direction. I had seen files and poles and bars used, and you had to look them in the eyes, before plunging metal right into them, and you had to throw all your weight behind it, without hesistation. And then you had to pull it out, and your hands would be covered in skin and flesh and blood and rot and there was no water to clean them.

I want to say this, I want him to throw it away.

But I say nothing as Makoto sighs, swinging his backpack up again, checking his watch.

“We’ll go further up and stop after noon, okay?” he says, but it isn’t a request for me to answer. So I just nod, and Makoto begins walking ahead, again, and I follow, hatchet starting to smack my thigh.

 

-

 

Dinner is always pretty quiet, too. 

Makoto takes out one of the cans he found, grimacing at the label, before opening it with his swiss army knife.

He owns a lot of things now that he didn’t before.

“Beans, again,” he says with a slight smile, sniffing at it gingerly, before handing me a spoon.

He always waits for me to start, and while I am sick of beans, sulking won’t change the congealed mess in the can. I nibble at it, while Makoto eats silently, too, his eyes ever watchful of the area around us.

After eating, he stands up, walking around us in a circle, before tying the can to one of the strings he’s stretched around our little camp. He gives it a little tug, looking grimly satisfied at the rattling noise, before sitting next to me again. We both eventually settle right on the ground, using our backpacks and jackets as pillows, and wait for sleep.

And while I would like to hear Makoto’s snores again, I know I won’t. I’ll wait and wait, while Makoto lies by my side, waiting for his once-soft green eyes to finally close and sleep to take him, but I can’t wait long enough, I can’t stay awake longer than him.

Makoto is stronger than me. Always, do my eyes close before his, and take me away into fitful, restless slumber.

 

-

 

The next morning is worse. Somehow, the next morning is always worse, because I am less and less convinced that I am stuck in some horrible nightmare, and that soon I’ll be shaken awake. The nightmare part is true, but the fiction of it is not. 

Makoto does his usual thing; getting up before I even wake, somehow quietly dismantling his perimeter, and having our things packed by the time I open my eyes. 

My eyes blink slowly as I register the blue-gold light of dawn passing, my limbs heavy as the usual thoughts run through my head.

_We’re still here, Makoto._

I perk up at the sound of water sloshing around, and sit up. Makoto is taking small sips from his water bottle, and noticing my stare, walks over, holding out one of my bottles.

“Morning, Haru,” he says and my fingers wrap around the warm plastic quietly.

He’s dropped the -chan. 

Water, water sliding across my cracked lips, kissing them sweetly, before healing my mouth, my throat, of it’s pain. I savour every drop, knowing Makoto will stop me if I drink too much.

I settle next to Makoto, who has the map he found stretched out on the ground. He’s sliding a finger from the tiny line that represents our trail, up to what was likely the intersection we found it at. His eyes dart around the area, and I know what he is looking for, what I’m also looking for.

A blue patch, a spot, a ribbon, anything.

“There,” says Makoto suddenly, pointing at a small blue patch, a beacon in a sea of green and brown. The title next to it says it is part of a large parkland. 

“We could go there for a day or two,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s not too far. ”

I nodded vigorously, and he smiled slightly.

“There’s water, so of course you want to go,” he sighed, taking another look, “but we need it pretty badly, so why not?”

While he makes the route, I stand around listlessly, looking through the trunks around me. All seems quiet. I tap a finger on the small hatchet, looking at it’s rough edge. It needed sharpening.

Makoto folds up the map, slinging his pack on. He checks his compass, before pointing through the trees, back to the path.

“This way.”

And that is all he says.

 

 

-

 

We reach it in the late afternoon. Neither of us had realised the scale of park, and that we were walking into just a tiny patch of it. The same mountains that had squatted in the distance for weeks now loomed nearby, and I found myself feeling a little nervous.

My breath caught when we beheld the lake. It gleamed in the afternoon light, and as I snuck a look at Makoto’s face, I could see that he too, was entranced. His eyes slid sideways, and he seemed surprised that I was looking at him.

“Haru, there are buildings down there,” he said quietly. We reach a few signposts, and a large map on a board. 

I only have eyes for the sign that points to the water.

“Lake Shirakaba,” Makoto murmurs, before reading the maps and frowning.

“Looks like a lot of people used to come here,” he said, a tone of foreboding in his voice, but I refused it; we were so close. 

“We need the water,” I say stubbornly, and I am right. Maybe I am thinking about other things, but survival-wise, he can’t deny it. He eventually shrugs, tapping his knife against his leg restlessly.

“Just don’t let your guard down.”

 

-

 

Makoto is checking the staff’s rooms when I decide to step outside. The building we had found had not been for tourists, and Makoto had hoped that maybe it had not been completely turned over. 

We had avoided the resort path entirely, after Makoto saw something moving along it’s length. 

I cross the small space between the dorms and the main building, scanning the several options of door in front of me.

I open the first door, peering inside. There’s nothing but a group of chairs around a table, cards and bottles scattered everywhere. The microwave in the corner has a hole in the centre of the glass door. 

I sigh, and shut it. I can see the lake from here, but I can’t go just yet, I have to wait. 

I open the second door; it opens right into a common room, pillows piled in the corner, the tables pushed to the sides. A dead tv, covered in dust, sits ahead.

Behind it I can see familiar shapes, stacked in lonely columns.

 _Cans, cans, and more cans,_ I thought, looking at the labels, praying for something other thans beans,  _Makoto and I will be spoiled for choice-_

“Hands up, kid!”

I slowly put down the can, before swiveling around. There’s a lethal-looking gun barrel pointed in my face, the man on the other end looking wild. His eyes dart from side to side, face covered in a rough stubble, his mouth twisting into a snarl. 

“I mean it kid! Hands up! Don’t move!”

I put both hands in the air. At this rate his jumpiness will set the gun off, and I’ll be dead. 

“Who are you? What do you want? Are there more of you?”

I suck in a shaky breath, before returning to my resting blank-face.

“Nanase, and I was scavenging, alright? I didn’t think there was anyone here.”

The man’s eyes narrow, and he grips the gun harder. 

“Are. There. More. Of. You?” he says, each word coming out on a burst of breath. I look him in the eye, trying to be blank.

“No,” I say, “just me.”

“Hmph,” he replies, before drawing a knife, and grinning, “then I guess no one will miss you then, Nanase.”

His knees bend, and I realise he is about to spring, knife in one hand, that gun in the other. My eyes flick to the only door behind him, and I feel them widen.

Makoto walks in, silently, his arm raised. I look at the blade in his hand, gleaming in the sunlight, and I don’t look away in time to see what happens next.

It plunges straight through the man’s neck, blood gushing forward onto his clothes, onto the floor, spreading out in red pools. I involuntarily step back in horror. Makoto’s face doesn’t change, still as stone, eyes burning, as he pulls it out, letting the man topple to the floor.

He gasps and gurgles, eyes wide, hands scrabbling at his ruined throat.

He’s still alive.

I look away, trembling.

 

There is another, quiet noise, and the gurgling stops.

 

-

 

I can feel great sobs welling up inside my chest, threatening to burst and flood me. My entire body shakes violently, and I collapse on the floor. 

Arms, tired but strong, pick me up, and I feel the sun on my face as Makoto cradles me outside. He’s shaking, too, and I feel the wetness on his face as I press my cheek to his, weeping.

“I’m sorry, Haru, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, hugging me to him. I shake my head.

“No, Makoto, I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

He said nothing, but his tears stop shortly after. 

Makoto calms down first. He always calms down first. I watched as he went back into that... room, and returned with the food, some bottles, and the gun.

We both looked at it for awhile, I knew we’d both seen them used many times, but neither of us had fired one before. 

“I think... What I need...”Makoto finally murmured, “is a wash.”

Half-heartedly, I looked up. I was tired of thinking about water denied to us.

“There’s a shower in the locker room in that station,”said Makoto, giving me a sideways smile, “and it still works.”

His face suddenly drops, returning to that all-too-familiar one of suppression.

“I was coming to tell you, earlier,” he says quietly.

Earlier, when I had turned my back on an open door, earlier when I had almost died, earlier, when Makoto had killed a man without hesitation. I had let my guard down.

 

_I’m sorry, Makoto._

 

_-_

 

It felt right and wrong all at once.

My heart practically singing, I stepped into the hot stream of the shower, relishing the sensation, my skin and water reunited once more. I closed my eyes and let it fall all over me for a few minutes, wishing I could stand there for hours. But as Makoto had warned, we didn’t know how much water was left, and this could be one of our few chances to clean up. I half-heartedly grabbed the bar of soap Makoto had found, lathering myself and letting the citrus smell fill the stall. 

It was... nice. I had not smelled something so plainly nice and refreshing for awhile. 

The water was the same as it always was, a welcome presence that almost made me feel if all could be right again.

But I could hear him. 

 

Quiet, almost silent sobs, muffled by something, floated into my ears, and I knew Makoto was trying to stop me from hearing them. As the water smacked tiles and skin, I could hear him.

I turned my shower off, slipping into one of the towels I had found in the locker room.

I didn’t even knock. I just pushed open the stall door. 

I didn’t want to see him like this, hunched against the wall, his head pressed to it, an arm partially shoved into his mouth. His entire body trembling with exhaustion.

“Do you want me to wash your back?” I asked quietly. 

A younger Makoto might have jumped at my sudden intrusion, but this one just shook his head, refusing to look at me.

I back out silently, closing the door. Try as I might, I don't hear another noise out of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> So the way I have planned to structure this is to have several POV characters, with chapters that follow similar timelines with one another. I feel a tiny bit out of my depth but I am also really enjoying writing everything.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> (whew something seriously screwed up with the formatting, aaaand it is being a HUGE PAIN. Sorry, but this is going to be shifting around as I figure out what I did :c )


	3. The First Day, An Hour Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as the last time Iwatobi was a lively town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about Nagisa and Rei.

The assortment was completely frazzling. How am I to choose between strawberry shortcake or an Iwatobi cream bread? I jingle the coins in my hand, pursing my lips as I try to make this very important decision.

And make it before Rei-chan finds me.

I finally settle on Iwatobi-chan, who could say no to that adorable face?

I tuck the treat into my bag, wondering how I could eat it without Rei-chan noticing. He went on and on about how, as Vice-Captain, I should be setting a good example for the rest of the team. Eating habits, dress code, no skinny dipping, it was easy enough for him! Rei-chan was good at a lot of things, but having fun was not one of them.

I could have a bite now, couldn’t I?

As I climbed the stairs to the roof, unwrapping the bread as I went, a loud sound split the air. I looked up in surprise, not failing to take a nibble as I went.

Delicious!

“Attention all students, this is an extremely important announcement.”

I’ve heard important announcements before, very important ones too, but never _extremely_ important.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but before I can look, the school’s noisy PA system goes on.

“At approximately 8am, the Japanese government-issued a country-wide shutdown of all non-essential government facilities due to a pandemic crisis. All students are instructed to immediately return home and await further news from the authorities.”

I feel my mouth drop open. Then take another bite of bread, chewing slowly.

“I repeat, all students to leave school grounds immediately. Please take all personal possessions with you, as we do not know when the situation will improve.”

I look down at the message Mako-chan sent;

_Nagisa are you alright, do you know what is happening?_

I quickly text back.

_Yes i am fine mako-chan, but we were just told school is being closed! And i dont know why_ _(_ _」゜ロ゜_ _)_ _」 r_ _u ok?_

I wait a moment.

_For now, i am with haru and we have to get out of tokyo for some reason, i am scared but they wont even say what is going on_

_GET OUT OF TOKYO?!?!? WHAT R U TALKING ABOUT MAKO-CHAN???_ _( ≧Д≦)_

_wait nagisa where are you_

_I’M ON THE SCHOOL ROOF BUT TELL ME WHAT IS HAPPENING!!! WILL U BE OK??_ _｡゜_ _(_ _｀_ _Д´)_ _゜｡_

He doesn’t reply for a minute, before texting;

_Nagisa i have to go its getting so crowded but haru and i will be fine just stay safe ok_

The door beside me bangs open, and I jump. Rei-chan stands there, his chest heaving, and he looks at me with wild eyes.

“Nagisa! You weren’t answering my messages! I had to ask Makoto-senpai!” he cries, seizing my free hand and pulling me upwards, “we have to go, now.”

I let him pull me down the stairs, I don’t like how his breathing is so heavy, everything done with strange, jerky movements. We go with the rest of the students to the train station; teachers ushering us out, and talking in low,nervous tones to one another. I see some are taking their photographs and personal items with them.

“Rei-chan,”I ask, nervously, as we wait for the train, “what does pandemic mean?”

He grips my hand a little tighter; he hadn’t let go since he had found me on the roof. His free hand pushes back his glasses in that familiar, settling gesture that I realise Iwas aching for.

"A disease, Nagisa,” he whispers, oh so quietly, and fear seizes my chest as his eyelids shutter and his voice shakes, “one that kills many, and one that has already spread to levels that w-we cannot control.”

He screws his eyes shut. I hadn’t heard of the term, but fear flares in my chest. I had read about plagues before, about the terror that came before, and the sadness that came after. I didn’t want Rei-chan to be afraid, or sad.

I break the rest of Iwatobi bread in half, proffering him the larger piece. For a moment, I think he’ll reject it, saying it will ruin his training diet.

But he takes it, giving it a nibble, before smiling shakily at me. The train pulls into the station, and he gives it a pained look as fellow students begin piling onto it. They’re all afraid too.

Being some of the last students to board, we get spaces near the door. I have a feeling Rei-chan planned this. He always thinks of everything. He catches me looking, and I feel a slight blush on my cheeks as he smiles.

“Thankyou for the food, Nagisa,” he says softly, and his violet eyes soothe me.

“Iwatobi cream bread is the best Rei-chan,” I say, wagging a finger at him, “it always cheers people up!”

He attempts to smile, before checking his phone. His face falls into misery once again.

“Makoto-senpai hasn’t sent any more messages,” he says, and worry is etched into his expression as he stares out of the window, “I hope he and Haruka-senpai are safe.”

“Mako-chan told me they would stay safe,” I reply stoutly, “and we have to believe him!”

Rei doesn’t like that, when there’s no evidence, no fact in a statement, but he nods anyway.

 

“Yes, we do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr at therewillbecubes.tumblr.com
> 
> I think Nagisa would use oodles of emojis/kaomojis(?) while he is texting. C: Next part also Iwatobi-centric.


	4. Today Is Lighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the original draft of this chapter, but I decided pacing-wise the initial one I had planned would be... incredibly stilted, so I plan to incorporate elements of it later on. I guess that is why this chapter took me so long to finish.

 

Most people said the worst part was their faces, maybe their gurgles and roars as they swarmed, but for me, the worst part was the smell. The sickly, decaying smell that pervaded even after they had been killed, and who wanted to touch one after killing it? No one. So they lined the streets, they slowly, sickeningly putrefied in houses and vehicles, on benches, in the train cars. And you could smell them before you saw them, even if they no longer moved. And you wouldn't touch them.

It could be relatively safe, you take a breather. But the stink would still be there, it would still hang around even after they'd long sloughed their flesh away, and I just wanted it _out,_ out of my nostrils, out of my stock of familiarity, I hated that twinge of knowing every time I stepped into a close space, or the wind blew a little too strongly, and you knew they were there. You couldn't escape.

And I still couldn't look at them when I killed them.

If I could kill them at all.

“Azumi!” I cried, plunging the pole into the downed rotter's head, eyes turned away as I pulled it out. I gagged as the fresh wave of rot wafted out of the hole, and my sister was screaming, too. Tears pricked my face as I ran towards her, but, god, it was too late already. Two were already swarming over her, and her back was against the window of the old grocer's, no where to run.

That, and the open bite on her arm, oozing blood, the torn skin flapping in a gross imitation of lips. I wanted to throw up, and my legs faltered as I tried to reach her.

“Na-Nagisa!” she screamed, flailing, her arm too weak to even fend them off with her shovel, and I screamed, too, when one, huge, snarling, bit into her shoulder, ripping away at the flesh. I kick at the closest one, it's leg crumples and it falls, nails scrabbling at her jeans. I howl and stomp on it's head, before swinging my arm towards the second. My stomach bottoms out at the sight of fresh blood covering it's jaw, sightless horrible eyes, and my arms feel like stupid, weak noodles as I connect, gouging out part of it's cheek. I squeak in horror, and Azumi is the one to push it off with her good arm, before grabbing my hand.

We run awkwardly, hand in hand, down the wide street, howls following us. The ocean glistens to our left, perfect in the afternoon sunlight, almost beckoning. Azumi's grip is weak in mine, and her breathing is already labouring.

_Come have a swim._

She's almost stumbling over her feet, but we don't stop, and the adrenalin is bleeding away with the horrible yells, leaving only pain in my arms and chest. The pole is heavy in my other hand, her shovel is gone.

_The water hasn't changed._

I forget why I was wearing my school uniform, tan fabric spattered in blood, but it probably had something to do with staving off the endless gnawing at my heart. Or maybe, I simply had nothing else to wear. Either one was likely.

“There...” she pants, and I don't argue as she pushes open the door of the house, our house, but even as we put the furniture against it her arms fail, and she falls to the ground. I try to help her up, saying stupid things about how she'll be okay and trying to smile, but she pushes me away, her hands in hopeless fists. She sobs as she lays on the floor, and I sob too, because I can't do anything, because I'm utterly and completely useless.

And yet, somehow, I'll be the last Hazuki left standing.

-

Birds chirp somewhere outside, and if listen hard enough, I can hear the steady rush of the ocean, the waves breaking calmly over the shore, over and over. The boards on my window only allow small shafts of sunlight into the room, and even as I blink awake, I know the poison hasn't passed.

I could get up, or I could stay here on my futon, and the sun would keep moving, the waves would keep breaking. I could leave, look for food, medicine, something, or I could stay here, slowly starving, and the Earth would keep turning, and every other animal would still wake, even as I mouldered away, and they would live and I wouldn't.

Tears leaked out of my eyes, and I wailed in self-pity and hatred. Azumi would not be coming back, and I had felt a horrified awe at the way she had walked off into the night, alone, knowing every step could be her last, and not being able to do a thing about it, every heart beat just spurring it forward, inexorable, horrible, pointless. So very, very pointless. I didn't ask her where she planned to go, because we both knew, and it wasn't a physical place.

She was already the walking dead.

I fisted my hand in my shirt, screaming into the pillow. But even as I did so, even as the terrible, familiar, sadness welled in my chest and out of my eyes, so too, a dread, tendrils wrapping themselves around my limbs, my mind, my heart.

I was going to die.

I mean, I was always going to die, I knew that, I just never thought about it. Why would I bother, when I had the present to think about, school and food and friends and family, and it was fun, and I was fun, and happy, and there was no need to think about when it would end, no point. The future was scary, because I had enjoyed the now too much to want it to change, and Rei-chan would talk endlessly about entrance exams and colleges and _the future_ , and I would wave him away with a laugh, because it wasn't the future yet.

But both were ugly, now. And all of a sudden, the future had conditions, and you met them, or you died. They narrowed my vision to minute by minute, and now, time wasn't regimented and regulated, there were no milestones, only obstacles, over and over and over with no end in sight. Or the end was in sight, right there, as teeth sunk into your arm and that was it. You were dead, and it was a terrible thing, despite how absolutely terrible your life was until that point. It was easy not to think about when you had a supposed 60 years ahead of you, but when you may only have 60 minutes, it was the only thing on your mind.

Did everyone consider themselves the exception? That they would somehow wriggle out of everything, that terrible, terrible things could happen, but they would survive, maybe them alone? I still felt this, even now, as the hunger curls and cuts at my belly, and the tendrils have me in their grips.

I am such an idiot.

I keep crying, mourning Azumi, mourning myself.

 

After all, there was not going to be anyone to mourn for me.

-

I could see so many stars. Once the lights had disappeared, and the windows no longer glowing with lamps, the night had become absolute, the moon the sole source of light. It was close to full, and by it's weak silver, I trudged down the road, my feet feeling strangely heavy. The waves broke gently on the sand, and despite my fuzzy sight I can see it, and I almost smile. My hair feels lank, greasy, and I run a hand through it half-heartedly. My sister's had loved it so, said it was just like girl's hair, so shiny and pretty. Would have they preferred if I was a girl? I never asked them.

I'm faintly surprised I haven't run into anything yet, and even though I tap my pole against my leg, I wonder if I have the strength for it. Probably not. My stomach grumbles, and I sigh, pinching the skin, feeling the wasting muscles underneath.

I tug at my shirt, looking down at the emblem, and what I wouldn't give for an Iwatobi cream bread, for a few more peaceful moments by the pool, anything. A few tears welled in my eyes, but I was so thirsty, so very thirsty, and my body had no more tears to give.

Where had Azumi gone? Was I looking for her? I couldn't remember. I could only remember snippets, floating in and out of my head. My sisters giggling as they zipped me up in a dress, Haru-chan's amazing stripping ability in the face of any body of water, Mako-chan running after him with exasperated groans, Gou-kun's eyes as they lit up over abs and pectorals and biceps.

Rei-chan fast asleep after studying, his serious-looking face peaceful, his navy hair running through my fingers...

My sisters screaming, one by one, as they were ripped apart in various ways. I really do cry, now, but I put one foot in front of the other, there's nothing else to do.

I feel another hunger pang, even as my vision sways, I keep shuffling forward. My parents, barricading the doors, not knowing their family line was going to die out the moment they did, and I can hear the waves still, endlessly crashing to shore. I can feel my lungs filling up with the rot, various scents clamouring for my disgust.

_Go back... I don't want to see that..._

I can hear something other than the waves, but a small, dull twinge of surprise flickers when I realise it isn't screaming or snarling. Voices?

Someone was running up the street in long strides, and I squinted at them as they flung open their arms, yelling words I couldn't understand. But I feel a crooked smile as the colour begins to bleed out of my vision, because it's him.

It's the sight I wanted to see.

His familiar face, eyes wide, moves towards me, his mouth open in a perfect “O”. I take another step towards him, arm outstretched, but my feet have no feeling anymore, and I fall forwards.

“Nagisa-kun!” he cries, rushing forward, grabbing me around the torso. My fall halts, and he shakes.

I smiled as his warm arms clasped me, my legs feeling far away, along with my arms, my head, thick and cottony. Was I dying? I must be, because Rei-chan is here, to take me away. I sigh, but it barely feels like my breath wafting over my lips, and I blink slowly as I look up at his face.

“Nagisa-kun,” he chokes, “hold on, Nagisa-kun.”

I don't know what he's so worried about, of course I will hold onto him. I missed him so much, and if I could be with him this way, I didn't mind.

My fingers twitch as he lifts me into a carry, and I can hear him sobbing. I want to tell him that I want to go with him, that I am happy, he didn't need to be sad, but when I open my lips nothing comes out, my tongue feeling thick against the roof of my mouth. I close my eyes.

 

There's no need to cry, Rei-chan, I want to go where you go.

-

If this was death, it hurt. Everything hurt. I could feel every ache, from the back of ankles to the roots of my hair, consistently throbbing, one big dull throb every time my heart beat. Opening my eyes, a dizzying wave overtakes me as I try to move my head.

There's something cool pressed to my lips, and someone has put their hand around my back, holding me up. I blink.

“Drink this, Nagisa-kun...” Rei-chan's voice says, sounding far away. There's a trickle of water into my mouth, and the more that slips into my throat, the less dizzy I feel. When it stops, I can feel some of myself returning, but the arm doesn't leave me.

“Rei-chan...?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. He comes into focus, his eyes soft and he's still even got those red glasses that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose, barely a scratch on them. I smile, that was Rei-chan.

“Nagisa-kun...” he says thickly, hugging me tightly. He's shaking, and I hear a tiny sob escape him as he continues to grasp me.

“Where... am I, Rei-chan?”

He pulls back, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“M-my house,” he says, wide-eyed, “someone saw you from the rooftop... I couldn't believe it... but there you were, wandering up the street, half-dead. If you weren't holding onto that pole I would've thought you _were_ dead.”

I digest this. Rei's house, I had been going to Rei-chan's house. I want to look at the Iwatobi crest again, but when I look at my chest, it's gone. Instead I am wearing a plain red shirt, surprisingly clean. I take an involuntary sniff; musty but not rank. Rei-chan looks pained.

“My mother, took it away for cleaning,” he said quietly, “I... can't believe you were wearing it... after all this time...”

“It reminded me, Rei-chan, of things that are good,” I say, slightly hurt. I think he can tell, because he tightens his grip around my waist, but despite his troubled face, says nothing.

“Rei-chan, are we... safe, here?”I ask, looking around. I realise with a happy jolt that we are in his room; and I feel more at home than I had in months.

“As safe as we can be...” he says slowly, rubbing my back. It's nice.

“I missed you so much, Rei-chan,” I whispers, hooking my arm around his waist, pulling him further onto the bed. He might have protested, earlier, but we were no longer in the middle of studying or team discussion. But his guilty expression hinted to the other reason.

“I missed you too, Nagisa-kun,” he whispered, and I pressed my head to his shoulder.

“I thought you were dead,” I say, and he trembles.

“I thought the same of you.”

I nod.

“Nagisa-kun,” and his voice shakes with guilt, “ri-right before... what you told me... I'm so sorry about what happened.”

He shakes with even greater force, and I can only wait; knowing he'll want to finish.

“I thought about it every day, I- I couldn't believe it, that I did that to you, that I hurt you so, I am so sorry... Nagisa-kun...”

“It's okay... Rei-chan,” I reply, and I mean it, squeezing his hand, giving him a small smile, “it was a lot to tell you. I understood that you didn't feel the same.”

“I was afraid... yes! Afraid! Of my feelings, even through all this!”

He starts to fidget, and I've seen him in an anger before, all flailing arms and dramatic cries.

“It was so hideous of me,” he cries, pulling at his hair, “I c-c-couldn't even-!”

“Shh, shh Rei-chan,” I coo, taking his hands away from his head, “it's alright, Rei-chan, it's alright.”

I pat his hair and his back as he weeps, but I stop when he stiffens, my hand hovering over his neck. I quickly put it down.

“Sorry, Rei-cha-” I freeze at a loud banging on his door. Rei-chan jumps, leaping off the bed, smoothing his shirt with a frown.

“Ryuugazaki, I know you're in there,” an unfamiliar voice calls, and Rei slides open the door. Around him, I can see part of a lean, older man, shorter than Rei but with a scowl and a slightly disdainful look on his face as he looks upwards.

“This is my room, Hanamura-san, so yes, I am in here,” Rei-chan replies coldly, staring down his nose. I lock eyes with Hanamura around his shoulder, and I don't miss the disgust that flits over his face. His narrowed jade eyes look familiar.

“Oh, alright, I leave you to it then,” he sneers, “would hate to interrupt-”

“You're here for a reason, what is it, Hanamura-san?”

“Well your mother sent me up here to fetch you, apparently she needs help in the infirmary. But I can see you're busy already,” he jeers, and Rei-chan stiffens.

“I will be there in a moment,” he says, “carrying any other messages? Or should you be off to your next errand?”

Hanamura looks furious for a moment, before a cool sneer comes over his face.

“That's all, Ryuugazaki,” he says, “but let me tell you, I'm glad my Chigusa won't be bothered by solicitations from _you_ at least.”

He mock bows and walks away, and Rei-chan's knuckles are white on the door as he stumps down the stairs.

Rei-chan slides the door shut silently, and a thrill of panic runs through me at the fury on his face, the shaking of his shoulders.

“People die every day out there, and that bastard still cares if I'm fucking gay, what _bullshit_ ,” and I almost miss the last words, because Rei-chan just swore. He takes deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists, before snatching up his backpack. My heart aches at the way it settles on his shoulders, evenly distributed, each strap meticulously tightened to the right length.

“Rei-chan-” I start as he opens the door, and he stares at me for a moment, expression unreadable.

“Try to get some sleep, Nagisa-kun,” he says quietly, before sliding the door shut behind him. It's quiet, and I'm alone again.

I ease under the covers, grabbing the butterfly pillow I had bought him months and months ago, burying my face in it and drawing in his scent. I want it to banish everything else, everything, the stink of sweat and blood and rot, I just want to smell him, to have him smile and laugh again, because there are still good things, I just had to be reminded.

My breath catches when I hear him sigh outside, and I strain as I listen to him pad away, the ocean whispering in my ears.

 

His steps are much lighter than Hanamura's, and hearing them, my heart can't help but feel the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me at therewillbecubes.tumblr.com
> 
> (also thanks to akikolikesstuff for their lovely ask c: it made me very glad, and the next chapter is a Makoto/Haru one so stay tuned :D )


	5. We're Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been awhile since I have updated, but between exams, moving and work I haven't had a lot of time or my head in the right spot for writing. The worst part is I have so many drafts and no finished products (for pretty much everything I am working on) and it's just been frustrating trying to polish my writing. 
> 
> But, I am getting there. I hope you enjoy this chapter, new characters, me attempting action-y, dramatic sequences. Yessireebob.

“Let's go,” he said.

 

I watch the numerous particles flash through the water, the sunlight again bright, dizzying. I can hear almost nothing in the blessed coolness. I half-expect Makoto's hand to break the surface, ending my reverie, expect to hear shouts and gunshots at any moment. I close my eyes, because it didn't work like it did before. My heart is calm, my breathing relaxed, but my mind cannot let go anymore. My mouth is inexplicably dry, sandy. The water can't satisfy.

“Let's go,” he said, every morning, and I went with him.

My legs drift lazily, and I notice unhappily that my jammers don't feel right, my legs have changed, my skin has changed. They don't fit myself and the water anymore.

I turn in the water, kicking deeper down, fingers brushing the rock-strewn lake floor. It's surprisingly clear, bright. I wish Makoto would swim, too. I wish Nagisa and Rei and Rin were here, because no end for us suddenly seems childish and unrealistic; it seems so stupidly optimistic, that we would all live for that to be true.

My mouth breaks the surface, and across the glittering water I meet his gaze. He is sitting on the lake edge, shoes off, feet just in the water, our packs beside him. His head tilts a little, before he starts looking around. The mechanical way his head moves suggests that this is what he's been doing all morning. Checking on me, then searching for danger; not a moment's rest. I slip back beneath the surface, and part of me wants to drift to the very bottom, lie in the darkness, where it would be safe and cool.

The urge strengthens;

_Makoto and myself, hands entwined, eyes closed, lying silently on the lakebed, beautiful water surrounding us – forever._

A rush of nausea overtakes my stomach, and it's all I can do to not gag. My splashing as I surface makes Makoto whip his head around, eyes wide, fingers spasming towards his side. I shake my head, and a little furrow creases his brow. It's more familiar now than his smile.

The water is clear, it's familiar, I thought it would wash away these thoughts.

He mustn't know.

 

-

 

As different as it feels, I still don't want to go. If Makoto sees the drag in my feet, the unwillingness in my expression, he says nothing about it. I slip on the shirt he hands me, and when I lean down to tie my laces, I hear his breath hitch. I look up, and I can see one dragging itself down the hill, a slight hissing on the wind from it's open throat.

It's legs are missing. Makoto immediately grips his blade tightly and approaches it with purposeful footsteps.

“Makoto...” I say, and he stops, giving me a hard look, and I realised I had nothing. I just didn't want him to do it.

If they can move, they can kill you. No chances.

He wipes the metal on it's clothes afterward, taking care not to step in the brown liquid seeping into the stones.

There are more in the trees, ones that haven't noticed us. He must have been watching them all this time, waiting.

Makoto points to the road by the top of the sloping hill.

“Let's go,” he says.

 

-

 

Carrying my backpack should get easier with time, with the repeated raising and lowering of my feet, the straight of my back, the muscles should be getting stronger, this should be easier.

The song of birds follows us down the road, and it's a true road now, the black bitumen, the flatness, the heat haze in the distance, the remains of the dead scattered along where cars have barrelled into them. I hold my breath when we pass these remains; flesh strewn everywhere, cooking in the sun, dried blood and viscera turning brown and grey. Whether he is putting it on or not, Makoto seems unfazed, but I notice he still goes around the bodies, he takes care not to step on anything that looked once-human. I feel a tiny twinge of comfort.

One foot in front of the other. Ignore the heat. At least try.

Never let your guard down.

There's two on the road ahead, snarling and shuffling towards us, and Makoto rushes up to the first, kicking it's legs out from underneath it, quickly putting the screwdriver through it's head. I freeze as he rips it out, his expression hard. Uselessness seems to radiate from my chest as he grabs the shoulder of the other and puts the metal right through it's eye, the back of it's skull flying away in little bits as it passes straight through the ruined brain. I slowly catch up to where he stands, pushing the body over with his foot.

He steps around it.

We encounter another half dozen in a short space of time, and I feel a rush of anxiety at the sight of cars blocking the road ahead. I couldn't see any buildings in the distance, especially in the bleached light of the midday sun, but the backed up cars could only radiate from a town, city, somewhere formerly-densely packed. I hadn't even been paying attention to road signs.

Makoto stops at the first few cars, frowning. I stop beside him.

Someone had painted ominous messages on the dirty car windows, scrawled them in an unpleasantly brown crusty material.

NONE ALIVE

DEATH AHEAD

NOTHING BEHIND

We were both silent, before Makoto picked past them, and I just heard the lowest mutter under his breath.

“We're alive.”

I was keenly aware that any of the vehicles we were circumventing could contain danger; though, for the most part, all that remained was rubbish and grey bodies.

Some of the walking corpses by the road had tried to follow us, shuffling along, unable to keep up. I could hear a faint rumbling, and as the cars became more dense, the town closer, so too did the noise heighten. I was starting to feel a strange churning in the pit of my gut; nothing good.

Makoto suddenly stopped, and I followed his blank gaze to the road ahead, throwing up my arm and squinting. There was a strong heat haze on the road, thick, dark, moving almost too fast.

The sound then swallowed me. Their cries, their howls of hunger, it was getting stronger, and I realised it was no haze, it was a horde.

And they'd spotted us.

My insides turned to ice as I realised just how many of them we had just outrun, how many were shuffling in the fields around us, and the approaching pack ahead, cut into two streams by the long line of parked cars.

I gave Makoto a terrified glance, and by his frozen expression I knew, that he too was realising this, that there was no escape.

The front of the horde was suddenly in focus, and it was like Makoto had been given a giant electric shock, surging forward.

“Haru, the cars, get between them-” he grunted, and I had no idea what he meant, in between, _I couldn't-_ I watched Makoto dart through the gap between two parked cars, whipping around, a snarl forming on his face as my feet refused to move.

“HARU, _NOW._ ”

My legs jerked forward as I stumbled after him, and he was going _towards_ them, he was going towards the monsters. My brain faintly registered that the cars might keep them back initially, but once they got through, we'd be overwhelmed. Makoto glanced over his shoulder, arms swinging; machete in one hand, the other pointing to the horizon, at some hopeful point past this swarm of nightmares.

“ _Don't stop moving.”_

A cacophony of screams followed us up the highway, I wove in and out of cars, following Makoto's lead. The dead tried to move at once on us, some banging on car windows, others falling onto hoods and the ground in their mindless hunger. I had only eyes for Makoto's back, shimmying between cars, even launching over two wedged together, using his hands to propel himself over the metal. I clumsily copied him; I couldn't look to either side, I couldn't look at the wall of corpses, pressing against the metal, the only thing stopping them from overwhelming us their own stupidity. The ones that managed to get within arm's reach were cut by the machete, quickly, messily. Makoto darted around three cars in quick succession, but as I tried to follow him, a sudden grip on my ankle brought me to a running halt, and I fell face-first onto the road, arms flailing uselessly.

I gave a yelp of surprise, before my face met the hot bitumen with a sickening crack. There was a grip around my shoe, and with a thrill of horror I felt nails rake my pants. I looked down to a pair of greying eyes gazing at me from under the car, from diseased, rotting sockets. Warm liquid gushed from my nose, and my heart stopped at the sight of it's jaw opening, sloping tombstone teeth trying to find purchase on my foot.

I kicked wildly, crying out in horror and exertion as I tore my foot from it's decayed hand. Each jerk of my head brought a fresh spike of pain, but I couldn't concentrate on that, there was only this, I couldn't, not like this-

Makoto skidded to a halt, spinning around, and I did the only thing I could think of, my heart pounding with terror.

I reached out for his hand.

His eyes widened and he hauled me to my feet, before turning a vicious boot on the head of the trapped corpse. Makoto's breathing was irregular, chest heaving, and the hand gripping mine was shaking violently. He gave me an unreadable look, before quickly pushing up my trouser leg, his hand spasming as he found unblemished skin.

“I'm alright, Makoto,” I gasped, “I'm alright.” He didn't look convinced, but trapped in a corridor of cars was no place for this conversation, and keeping a grip on my hand, he began to move between the cars once more.

My face felt as if it were on fire, but I had no time to address it. The scuffle seemed to only incite them, I could feel the air shifting on all sides as they howled.

As Makoto pulled me along, I reached up and touched my face gingerly, despairing at the slight slick stickiness on my skin. There was blood on the fingers I pulled away from my upper lip, bright red and fresh. The coppery smell was a little overwhelming; but compared to the stench of the fluids spilled by the dead, it was strangely pure, clean, whole. The right red.

I felt a wave of disgust. A delicate touch to the tip of my nose sent a wave of pain straight to my brain. I could feel the structure _shift_ and my entire world spun for a moment.

Only Makoto's tight grip on my hand kept me from tumbling again.

“You need... to keep... focused,” Makoto ground out, his arm arcing through the air as he lopped off a head stuck halfway in an automatic window. I watched the neck stump slither down the glass as I passed.

My breath was coming in short bursts now; but it was working; we were leaving the horde behind. We just had to keep going, keep running towards the too-bright sun, it's indifferent light bleaching my vision, leeching my mind with heat, sweat leaking into my eyes.

Heat haze and clouded vision, and it wasn't going to end anytime soon. My lips were chapped, dry, but when I licked them, for only the briefest of moments, iron had flooded my tongue.

I could see nothing but the endless row of useless cars, putrid arms and mouths reaching for us from their barrier, and between them, Makoto, suffused in light.

My legs felt heavy, burning with the strain of running and stopping and starting and weaving. But we didn't cease moving.

Soon houses were coming into view, and it was just as I feared; they were already quite close together, and I could see tall buildings stretching into the distance. We had only just managed to outrun a pack of them through sheer luck, but a town would be full of them, around every street corner, behind every door, waiting in every building.

And there was one in Makoto's face, right now.

Fresh, strong, screaming. He gave a cry, and we both went backwards, my arms flailing, he falling straight onto the pavement. The walker fell on top of him, and he held it's arms back with his hands, trying to stop it's snapping mouth from taking even a flake of skin. His powerful legs connected with it's stomach, and with a roar, he propelled it several metres into the air. It hit the ground with a strange combination of fleshy thump and cracking bones. Leaping to his feet, Makoto closed the gap in half a second, whipping out his screwdriver and driving it straight into the left eye.

One of my hands covered my mouth, trembling, and then my thumb brushed the tip of my nose, swiping over dried, crusted blood.

It was too much. I heard a strangled cry leave my lips, but I was already falling backwards, darkness seeping into my vision, Makoto's _“Haru?!”_ sounding so far away.

Before I slip away, I imagine I am in the lake.

 

-

 

“Haru? Hey, Haru?”

 

I blink slowly; my vision is slightly fuzzy, colourless for a few moments. My surroundings swim into vision, and in the centre of it all is Makoto's worried face.

I reach up a hand automatically to my throbbing face, but Makoto's hand stills mine, and a disapproving look settles on his brow.

“You shouldn't touch it, Haru,” he admonished, “after all the trouble to set it properly...”

Set.. what properly? Makoto's voice sounded far away, fuzzy.

“Why can't I touch my face?” I mumble, giving him what I hoped was an annoyed look. I tried to lift my nose a little, and was rewarded with a stab of pain in the centre of my face.

“Urgh!”

“Haru!”

“I really hope he didn't mess it just now.”

A completely unfamiliar man is smiling slightly from behind Makoto; I can see his silly face over Makoto's broad shoulder, all frizzy brown hair and too-wide blue eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, and there was a lilt to his voice that suggested he was joking about something. A minute frown appeared on Makoto's face, one that only I would notice, even as my vision swayed. Makoto doesn't remove his hand as the new person crouches beside us, squeezing my fingers a little.

“Hey,” the man said lightly, his eyes now looking at either side of my face, “I ain't got nothing against it, thought it was kinda cute, is all.”

Nothing against what? And what was cute about my traitorous face?

I don't like this person already.

I think Makoto can tell, because he gives me a warning look, one the man can't see, and I try to still my agitation.

It gets extremely hard when fingertips ghost my cheeks, pressing down slightly.

“I'm Yoshida Iwa,” the man continues, his grin not dropping, “and you did a number on this one, Nananse-kun.”

I hiss as pain lances through my cheeks, as he adjusts something, and I meet Makoto's darkened eyes.

_Hey, Makoto, he has a girly name too, did you hear?_

Too bad I don't like him.

“Tachibana-kun was telling me how you got through that horde outside of town, pretty smart, actually. We don't get many from the resort, and the ones we do always tell us about the hundreds roaming out there in the trees. Scary shit, my friend.”

I wasn't his friend. I didn't like him, or this little room I was stuck in, grey, depressing, like everything else.

“I was so impressed, I honestly wanted to fix you up for free, you know?” he chatters on, “but Yamaguchi-san is nothing but a shrewd businesswoman, let me tell you...”

He shrugs, putting things away in a satchel. I glance over at Makoto again; and he looks incredibly discomfited.

“What did you give them?”

It tumbles out of my mouth, and Makoto refuses to meet my gaze now, staring at the floor.

“Nothing major,” he mutters, and Yoshida suddenly claps him on the back.

“Speaking of which, you did say after your friend woke up, and Yamaguchi-san will be probably sending people out soon,” Yoshida says, “and she really doesn't like holding things up for one person.”

Makoto nods, standing. I go to stand too, but he shakes his head.

“You stay here,” he says quietly, “Yoshida-san and the others will look after you. It's safe here.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, panic rising in my voice. We hadn't been apart for more than 10 minutes since the camp fell, and Makoto was picking up his weapons with a purposeful look and _why is he leaving._

“I'm going to help scavenge for supplies,” Makoto replied, and while he kept his voice level, he still didn't look at me properly. I don't like this tension, there's not supposed to be tension between us, there never used to be.

Yoshida shrugs and leaves the room, leaving us alone, finally.

“Why?”

Makoto sighs.

“Fixing your nose was never going to come free, Haru,” he said quietly, “they need an extra pair of hands, and they were impressed with the way I... dispatched that walker earlier.”

Of course, I was putting Makoto in danger, again. There's a shout of “Tachibana-kun!” from downstairs and he grimaces.

“I really need to go Haru,” he said, opening the door, “you rest, okay?”

“Wai-”

He closes the door without another word.

My brain slowly processes what is happening. Scavenging, we did that all the time, right? But that was in smaller places... this was almost a city...

There would be so many here.

I lurch upwards, stumbling to the window as a loud screeching sound fills the air.

The window is broken, but I throw it open anyway, sticking my head outside, looking for the source of the noise. I don't need to look far; a small metal gate is being wheeled back at the end of the street and I count five, five waiting by it to exit. I find Makoto, taller than all of them, his hair an olive-brown blend in the sunlight. I stare at the back of his head, and the terrible thought that I might never see him again rises in my stomach. Anything could happen.

I want to run down there, to grab him, to run away, nose be damned.

But I don't. Even as I grip the windowsill, my hands tremble.

I just watch as they disappear through the opening, and for a moment, Makoto glances over his shoulder. Even though we are some distance apart, I feel as if the corner of his forest eyes settle on my face.

Then he is gone, and they are pulling the barrier closed again.

I swallow thickly, my fear and my throbbing nose threatening a bout of nausea.

The dark clouds gathering on the horizon do nothing to help.

 

-

 

I can't remember the last time it rained this heavily.

Droplets pound the roofs and pavement, the drains already overflowing from neglect, stormwater running freely down the streets. The sky is a uniform grey, dark, imposing, and I can think of no worse weather to be scavenging in. I extend my arms in the rainfall, relishing the cool on my bare skin, watching it pool in my cupped hands. I drink; it's sweet and wild and I missed it so much.

Makoto hadn't come back yet. But he will come back, he has to.

The rain is both soothing and worrying, and I wish I could enjoy it with Makoto safe, beside me.

I bite my lip. I want to immerse myself completely in the storm, but Yoshida had warned it would ruin my set; it was worth too much to destroy, no matter how much I missed the untamed water. I would have to wait. Some things were more important.

Didn't mean I wouldn't get my arms and legs soaked, though.

Lightening flashes somewhere above, not streaking down to the earth but lighting the clouds a white-purple all the same. The columns and towers of cloud, hidden by the darkness, where exposed in those split seconds, monoliths of water, terrible and beautiful.

Would Rei agree with that?

I ran my fingertips along my hairline, they were so cold, so wonderfully cold. The cold distracted from my constantly warm, itchy face. I couldn't even breathe too hard with it like this.

I feel my heart jump at the sound of shouting, of the shrieking of the gate opening. From the balcony I can see lights flashing below, and a small line of people filing in at the end of the street. Second-to-last in the row, wearing his old green jacket with the hood pulled up, a good head taller than most of them, dragging his feet as he walks, a heavy-looking duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He's alive, he's here.

Part of me wants to call out from the window, but he wouldn't hear me anyway, not over the noise.

He raises his head from it's slump; he looks utterly spent, exhausted. I ball my hands into fists, angry, angry at these people, angry at myself. I sigh, and quickly dry my arms and hair on my jacket, get rid of all evidence of storm rain embracing.

I fidget restlessly by the door as I wait for him to return, and I yearn to make sure, that he's alive, that he's definitely here.

The door opens, and standing on the threshold is a thoroughly-soaked Makoto, his hood now pulled back, hair slicked against his head.

“Makoto,” I say thickly, and he pauses, unsmiling, but a tiny glow coming to his eyes. I clasp my arms around him in a hug; not minding the dampness, the cold. I'm just glad he's here.

“Haru,” he protests, disentangling himself gently, “I'm soaking wet, be careful.”

I watch as he peels his outer layers off; first the thick green winter jacket, his trousers, his socks. They are all completely soaked, and while he drapes them over a chair, I reach out a finger to touch at his arm. Icy.

He jerks slightly at my touch, before sighing, turning away and tousling his hair. He plucks at his shirt, before taking it off, too. He dries himself off, but hesitates when I pull back the blankets for both of us. He sat himself next to me, and, struck by the sudden urge, I sweep his still-damp hair from his forehead, letting myself smile just a little.

“We're safe, Makoto,” I murmured, “you can sleep easy.”

He sighed, but didn't pull away as I wrapped my arms around his waist, remembering how we used to sleep as children, sharing the same futon. He pulled the blankets up, fending off the chill coming from the broken window, and as he settled himself on the pillow, I watched a small smile quirk his lips, soft, genuine. Reflected in warm green eyes gazing at me.

He drapes his right arm above my hips as I get settled, and I feel immensely comforted by it's weight, curling around me-

“It's not fair...” I mumble to myself as I put my head down, nose in the air. Makoto stiffens.

“What was that, Haru?” he asked quietly, eyes lidding slightly; and I wished I had said nothing at all. I didn't like his face like that.

“It's not fair that you have to fight for them,” I say, trying to sound resolute, but his gaze is hard, and I hear my voice waver a little.

“It is fair,” he replies, sounding ominous, “it's fair they asked for recompense.”

“What, so if we can't give them something, we aren't worth anything?”

“It's always been like that, Haru,” he snaps, “the goods have changed but exchanges are the same. Worth is subjective.”

“Well, that's just stupid, Makoto.” and I hate how cold my voice has become.

“I don't know why you're angry at me, Haru-”

“You- you're worth something, you don't have to prove it to them- I just, you could get hurt-”

He suddenly rises to face me fully, and I falter at his expression; his eyes are wide, piercing, and his mouth is a trembling line.

“Every day I could get hurt, Haru. Every time I take a step, every time my eyes close, every time I fight, and I have to do it anyway. I have to be a person that _can._ There's no way around it.”

He turns away, and I miss his face already, even if it is all wrong now, even if his expressions are all alien and unfamiliar and hard, I am so tired of looking only at the back of him.

“Makoto-”

“You need to accept that, Haru.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr at therewillbecubes.tumblr.com
> 
> and thankyou for kudos and comments, means a lot to me :D
> 
> Listened mostly to Serpents, Blackbird Song, Hunger of the Pine and Through The Dark to grease the writing gears for this one.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at therewillbecubes.tumblr.com


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